Hollow
by Liyah605
Summary: Rather than simply feeding Sam demon blood that night, Azazel kidnaps him to raise him to be Lucifer's vessel for the Apocalypse. John and Dean become hunters to track him down and bring him back home and in the process get trapped in the plot between the Angels and Demons.
1. Chapter 1

Lawrence, Kansas

November 2, 1983

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," Mary said with a smile as she carried her first son into the nursery. Setting Dean on his feet, he walked over to lean into the crib.

"Night Sam," he said quietly after kissing his forehead. Mary leaned over soon after with a whispered "Goodnight love," as she repeats the kiss.

"Hey Dean."

"Daddy!" Dean runs over to be picked up as his father motions to the crib with his chin. "Hey Buddy, what do you think? Sammy ready to toss around a football yet?" he asks, laughing quietly.

''No Daddy," Dean replies copying his father's bright smile.

Mary walks past them with a smile, brushing her hand across Dean's back down to her husband's arm. "You got him?"  
"I got him..." John replies, rubbing Dean's back as the boy rests his head on his shoulder. "Sweet dreams, Sam," he says, turning off the light and leaving to put Dean to bed.

A light breeze circles Sam's crib as the light bulb in his crescent moon night-light flickers and the clock stops ticking. Sam blinks a few times and stares up at the man standing over him, letting out a few soft coos and kicking his feet when the man bends closer. Mary wakes to the noises coming from the baby monitor resting on her bedside table and she rolls over, but seeing that her husband is not lying with her, she gets up and crosses the hall groggily. Seeing her husband standing beside the crib she quietly asks, "John? Is he hungry?" He turns his head slightly, quieting her with a soft shh. As she leaves to return to her room, she notices the light in the hallway flickering. With a couple taps to the shade, the light remains steady but she notices something else.

Lights from the TV shine against the wall of the stairwell and as she takes a few steps down the faint sounds of the movie reach her ears. Assuming that John had been watching TV before going up to take care of Sam, she decides to go down and shut it off making it easier to convince John to come to bed rather that stay down here. But what she sees stops her dead in her tracks. Her eyes widen. Her mouth falls open. And for a moment she can't breathe at the sight of her husband sleeping in his recliner. On weak legs she races back up to the nursery; sweat beginning to bead on her brow as her heart beats frantically against her ribs. The words "It's you..." fall from her lips without really hearing them herself as the yellow-eyed demon turns to her with a grin; the small cut on his wrist unnoticed.

"It warms my heart to hear that you haven't forgotten me," he says through his smirk as he turns back towards to the crib to pick up the baby.

"Get away from him!" Mary snarls, rushing forward and raising her arms to try and grab Sam.

"No, no my dear," he stops her in her tracks as he wags a finger back and forth in the air. "We made a deal," taking a step forward, Mary is pushed back and slammed into the wall. "Your son is mine," she begins to slide up the wall. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

The muffled voices which slowly grew louder began to rouse John, but it's the loud thud that gets him up. "Mary?" He questions as he starts down the hallway. "Everything okay?" The words die in his throat as he looks into the nursery only to see a strange man with bright yellow eyes holding his child. "Who the hell are you?" He shouts, causing Sammy to let out a few protesting cries at all the noise.

Breathing hard, he almost doesn't hear Mary's whimper but when the blood drips down onto the floor between the men, he can't help but glance up. "Mary...no...'' is all he manages to get out before flames burst out from her body. He screams like a wounded animal, raising his arms to shield his face from the heat as he turns back to the grinning man. "I'll be seeing you John." And with that both he and Sam disappear. He rushes forward, grasping at the air to try and grab his son. _He was just here! How..._ Before he can try and comprehend what he just saw, his eyes are drawn back to the horror happening above him.

"No! God! Mary...Sam," he screams, his heart twisting painfully as he watches his wife's hair burn away; the flames doing nothing to hide the wound on her stomach. Standing on his toes he reaches towards her desperately, refusing to accept that there is no saving her.

"Daddy?" The quiet and terrified voice of his young son wrenches another sob from him. Not wanting him to see what he already has, John scoops up his oldest son, covering his eyes, before fleeing the house. Tears pour down his face which only add to Dean's fear and confusion. "What happened to Mommy? Where's Sam? We have to get Sammy!" Dean twists, trying to get free from his father's arms to get back upstairs but the man only grips tighter and races out onto the lawn. The cold air bit at his face but all he could feel was the heat from the fire; the heat of his life melting away. His eyes dart around, trying desperately to locate whatever it was that took his son as the windows above his head explode outward.

John sobs and stumbles forward to get Dean away from the heat and shattered glass, constantly looking over his shoulder from the desire to rush inside to get his wife. His shock and denial fighting against what he saw, fighting against the impulse to race back inside to pull the rest of his family from the flames. Mary couldn't be dead. Sam couldn't be gone. This couldn't be happening. Dean's struggles escalate the longer he is without the missing members of his family and he begins to cry in earnest. "Daddy...where's Mommy? Where's Sammy? We can't leave them inside!" A choked sob tears open John's throat as the first of his neighbors, woken by the fire, rush over to him.

"I called the fire department!''

"Are you both alright?"

"Oh God, John, where's Mary?"

The jumbled questions fall on deaf ears as John searches the shadows, desperate hope fading as his situation forces him to realize Sam is long gone. The sharp wail of sirens in the distance draws him back to the present and to the son trembling in his arms. He absentmindedly hugs Dean tighter to him and when his arms wrap around his neck, he rests his head against Dean's. "We'll get him back, Dean...we'll get him back...''

The next thing he knows he's resting against the hood of the Impala with Dean pressed tight against his side as if he was trying to crawl inside his father to hide from everything that's happened. firefighters rush forward to put out the fire, paramedics came over to check on the pair but they had a hard time looking Dean over. Because as distracted as he seemed, John was constantly touching Dean; hugging him tighter, running a hand through his hair, needing to reassure himself that he hadn't lost everything. He still had Dean. And that was all that kept him from breaking down and collapsing right there in the street. John's head was swimming, but at the back of everything was a pair of bright yellow eyes laughing at him.

The next morning John woke with a start causing him to almost tumble off the couch he had been sleeping on. Looking around he slowly recognized the home he was in. Though he didn't remember any of it, apparently Anthony and Donna from across the street had taken them home. He looked around the small living room and he had to fight down the panic he felt at not seeing his son. "Dean?" He called out, rising with a wince as his back protested. "Dean, where are you?"

Anthony walked in with a sad smile holding two mugs of coffee. He offered one to John but it was ignored. "He's sleeping upstairs in Ben's room." Without answering John walked upstairs and opened the door, not even trying to be quiet. Dean had been exhausted and clearly still was since he didn't even stir from where he was cocooned in the sleeping bag on the floor. Ben sat on his bed, back to the wall as he read.

"Good morning, Mr. Winchester," the boy whispered. John nodded and his shoulders sagged as he exhaled; eyes lingering on the lump on the floor for a moment before shutting the door and returning to the couch. This time he took the offered coffee and stared into it. "So it all happened...it really happened..."

Anthony had no answer to that. What could someone say to a man who just lost half his family in such a horrible accident. "You know you're both welcome to stay here. We can make up the futon in the den until you can get some things figured out." He looked as if he was considering it, but there was no way he could sit here trying to get back to a normal life. It wasn't as if he would be able to repair his home and move back in. He could never go back to that place again. It left him with no place to go, but he wasn't going to stay here.

"No...we can't." He didn't give any more answer than that even after Anthony insisted. Putting his untouched coffee back on the table, he stood and ran a hand through his hair. "If Dean wakes up, tell him I'll be right back. I need to go get some of our things." John kept his head down until he was standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. He took a deep breath, forced his head up then walked to the front door. He wasn't going to look at the burned out corner and wasn't going to pay attention to the glass littering the yard. If he could keep his focus long enough to pack their bags, then he would never have to see it again except in his nightmares.

The door creaked as it swung open and the stairs protested his weight. Being on the second floor probably wasn't safe considering the black ash that had begun to spread out into the hallway before the fire was put out but John didn't worry. He just walked into the bedroom, the unmade bed causing a hitch in his breathing. The smoke wasn't enough to mask Mary's smell. It lingered in the air like a tease, a reminder of what he had lost and of who he could never hold again. He jerked his duffel from the closet, knocking a few things over in his haste. He honestly had no clue what it was he packed from his clothes or Dean's but it was something to get them started. Something to have as they searched for Sam. His eyes burned at the thought of his infant son, but by the time he had changed his clothes he was under control. He knew he couldn't go to the police. There was no way they would believe any of his story. But he had to start somewhere. Someone had to know something about this.

Dean met him at the door when he returned to his neighbor's. John returned the brief hug before offering him a change of clothes. "Get ready to go, Dean. We have to go get your brother back." Dean knew better than to question that tone, so he rushed upstairs and was back down before John had finished refusing the offer of breakfast. Anthony and Donna exchanged a worried look, but didn't say much else as they watched him pull the phonebook out and begin flipping through it. He ripped out the page he needed, uttered a brief goodbye to the family, and ushered Dean out to the Impala.

The address that was closest to them on the list was Missouri Moseley. John had his doubts about visiting a psychic but he was thoroughly convinced that he had no other route. What police officer would believe that some invisible force held his burning wife to the ceiling while a man with yellow eyes disappeared with his infant son? He huffed softly to himself as he opened the door and before it could even shut behind him, Missouri came out and chided him. "You sit that boy down on my couch. He's too young yet to hear what I have to tell you." John frowned and she corrected him before he could speak. "I know that he's going to find out, but I am not going to be the one to put that stress on the child." She turned away and walked through the curtain that closed off the back area and waited for John to join her.

"The thing you're looking for is a demon.'' Missouri informed him calmly before he even had the chance to sit down across from her. "And there's a whole mess of evil surrounding him."

There was a few heavy seconds of hesitation as John settled into the chair. "I don't care. He took my son and I'm going to get him back." John replied, accepting this fact quite easily, considering. Though his brain had scrambled to come up with some sort of normal explanation for what he saw, he just couldn't. So, all that mattered now was that he had something to go after. Be it human, demon, alien, whatever he didn't care. He was going to kill it and get his son back.

"Well...it seems that we have a lot of work to do then." She didn't have much to offer since she typically didn't get very involved in these matters, but John poured over the books she pulled out for him, flipping through and trying to get straight to the point of how to find it and how to kill it. While he read, she told him the basics that she knew about and what omens to look for which gave away a demon's presence.

It was two and a half hours later when Dean, after fidgeting around on the couch and worrying his lower lip between his teeth, got up and stuck his head through the curtain with a hesitant, "Dad? I'm hungry..." Missouri smiled at Dean and stood. She put a hand on his head in what was meant to be a comforting gesture but the sad sigh that accompanied it took away any comfort the boy might have received.

"I think we've gone over enough for now. You know how to get in touch with me if you need it." She gripped John's arm surprisingly tight as she stared up at him. "You keep that boy safe. And he needs you now more than ever so don't go getting yourself killed." She left those as her parting words, letting John and Dean see themselves out.

A short time later they were sitting in the corner booth at a diner down the street. John shuffled through some papers that he had taken from Missouri. He barely spoke two words to Dean and even after the placing his order he didn't say anything. There was a list of people who Missouri had known who were in the business of hunting the supernatural and he stared down at their numbers. "Now I can't help you, but these folks might be able to assuming you can get ahold of them." She had said as she passed it over to him. "They'll be able to get you weapons and the like but most are happy being by themselves so don't expect too much."

Dean squirmed, picking little pieces off his paper napkin as he sat in the uncomfortable silence. John snapped a quick "Stop it." before folding the papers up and placing them back in his jacket pocket.

"Dean..." He began, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Things are different now and you're just going to have to accept that for a little bit, okay? I know you're not going to like all the moving around we're going to be doing but you need to bear with me because we need to do it to find Sam."

"Did that lady tell you who took him?" Dean asked quietly, afraid to interrupt his father but the question had been buzzing around his head since he was left sitting on the couch at Missouri's. "Did she tell you how to find him?"

John looked at his son for a few long minutes. The food had arrived before he answered, but instead of eating his pushed the food around his plate; looking more like the child than his son who was momentarily distracted at remembering how hungry he was. "She gave us someplace to start," he finally answered quietly. "We need to talk to these people," he patted the jacket where the papers were. "And they're going to help us get what we need."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence and Dean waited in the car while John tried the numbers on his list. Dean didn't ask where they were going when they finally began driving but he was scared. It wasn't right, none of this was right. And even though he was only 4, he could feel it and that made him uncomfortable. He fell into a light doze after an hour or so and it wouldn't be the last time that the long stretch of asphalt speeding underneath him lulled him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean woke up, they were pulling into what looked like a junkyard. He blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes as he looked around. "Daddy?" he questioned as they parked in the back near the garage. "Where are we?"

"South Dakota. Stay in the car for now, alright?" Dean nodded and turned to look at the man who stood in the doorway to the house.

"You John Winchester?" He asked, looking him over as John approached with his hand outstretched. They shook as he nodded.

"Does that make you Bobby Singer?" John asked, looking him over warily. He didn't seem like much but Missouri said he could help so he would try and hold off judgment.

"Did the name on the sign give me away?" He asked as he looked into the window of the Impala, regarding Dean silently for several long moments. "This a'int gonna be easy with that kid around. You realize that right?"

"It doesn't matter if I do or not," John returned sharply. "I'm not leaving him behind."

Bobby only nodded. "A'int my place to judge but I couldn't continue without makin' sure." The two men took another minute sizing each other up before Bobby tilted his head back toward the house. "No sense in standin' around wasting time. Why don't you and your boy come on inside." John motioned to Dean who got out and walked in behind his father cautiously. Bobby handed him a bottle of water from the fridge and Dean left to go watch tv in the living room. His attention wavered between whatever show he was wasn't really watching and straining to hear what the muffled voices in the kitchen were discussing.

Bobby came in after a little while and smiled at Dean. He walked over to the scattered library that was his bookshelves and took a few of them out to drop on the table in front of John. "These'll tell you what you need to know. But if you run into this and fight them first round, you're not going to get anywhere. Demons are the things most hunters don't want to deal with."

John only grunted as he flipped through the pages. Bobby looked at him hard then finally asked the question that had been bugging him since he first got John's call. "What did they do to you to pull you into this?" John paused then after a moment looked over to stare at Dean. Bobby thought he wasn't going to get an answer from him so he pushed back from the table to get up, but John finally spoke up. His voice was quiet, as if he didn't want to speak at all.

"They killed my wife and took my son." John stared down at his clenched hands and refused to look over into the next room. He opened and closed his mouth a few times then just shook his head as his shoulders deflated a little.

Bobby waited but when it was clear he wasn't going to get anything else from him, he huffed sadly and went to the refrigerator to grab them both a beer. They drank in silence, both thinking of the wives that they had lost, and once Bobby finished he stood again. "Might as well get you some weapons now. I'll show you how to pack the salt rounds for now and see what else you want to work with from there." John nodded and they went out to the garage, leaving Dean squirming uncomfortably on the couch. He didn't like it here by himself but John had told him to wait so he did. His mind wandered to Sam and his Mom and he could feel tears stinging his eyes. He pulled his legs up and hugged his knees to his chest, and began humming the tune his mother would always sing to him whenever he was sad.

When John and Bobby returned a few minutes later he hastily wiped his face on his sleeve, not wanting them to see that he was crying. Once John came in, though, he noticed it instantly. He put his shotgun and silver knife down on the table to go over and kneel in front of his son. He put his hand on his head and offered him a small smile. "It's okay, Dean. I know you miss them, but we'll get Sam back soon. Bobby's going to help us and everything will be back to...well almost normal soon." Using his hand to pull him forward, he kissed the top of Dean's head then returned to the kitchen.

They stayed at a hotel for a few days while Bobby taught John the ropes. Dean came with him the first day, but after the men spent half the day butting heads, John contemplated leaving him to stay in their room. It didn't take much for him to convince himself how terrible of an idea that was because he couldn't bear to have Dean somewhere apart from him so he had to stay. John would just turn the tv volume up a little to try and keep him from hearing them argue.

John was a stubborn bastard. So at the end of the week when Bobby got a call about a job a few hours away, he insisted on taking it himself. Bobby tried to argue, hoping that bringing Dean up would keep John from going but he had to fight. He couldn't afford to waste time because sitting on his ass reading books and talking wasn't going to do shit for him or for Sammy. But in the end John wouldn't hear any option other than the one he provided so that's how Dean found himself sitting on a bed in a hotel room with a silver knife and a box of salt. He was scared and confused and he eyed the salt that lined all possible entrances to the room warily. He didn't know what was going on, and he didn't want to touch the knife because Mommy always said not to. They were sharp and he might cut himself. His father had reassured him, told him that he wouldn't need it but having it there just frightened him more.

It didn't help when John and Bobby finally came back from their "routine salt and burn. Nothin' to worry about, kid". Dean hadn't understood what it meant then, but now he realized it didn't matter what it meant because he didn't like it. John had a cut across his forehead and he rubbed his right arm with a wince as he went into the bathroom to clean up. Bobby awkwardly tried to console him but he didn't know what to say and Dean wasn't listening anyway. He just wanted to wake up in his own bed with his Mommy and Sammy with him.

Amarillo, Texas

The day after the fire

Jen paced nervously through the living room, wringing her hands and stopping on every pass to look out the window. Her husband Adam let her go for a few minutes before stopping her by grabbing her arms. "Honey, stop. She'll get here soon but wearing a path through the floor isn't going to make her come any faster."

"I know, I know. It's just..." she ran her fingers through her hair and turned to look out the window again. "What if...oh I don't know I'm just nervous!" Adam chuckled and pulled her back to rest against his chest.

"I am too, but everything will be fine. You'll see." He kissed her temple then joined her in looking out the window. They stayed that way for a few more minutes until a car pulled into their driveway. Jen was nearly vibrating with excitement and nerves and she smoothed the front of her shirt to get out any imaginary wrinkles before going to the door; smiling at Adam who blew her a kiss. The knocks on the door barely finished before Jen opened the door.

"Ms. Masters, please come in." Jen said, a hopeful smile on her face as she stepped back. "We were so glad to get your call." Her eyes moved down to the baby Meg held in its carrier before turning to meet Adam's.

"I thought you might be," Meg returned with a grin as she settled down in the loveseat across from the couple who sat on the couch. "I looked over your information from the adoption papers that you filed with the agency. So you two have been unable to conceive on your own and that's why you were looking at adoption?"

They both nodded. "Yes, we've been trying for years but…" Adam trailed off, squeezing his wife's hand with a small smile. "It's why we were so grateful to have you helping us."

"I'm grateful too, because I know we'll be able to help each other out." Meg said with a wicked grin, unnoticed by the pair as she reached over and pulled the baby from his carrier. "This is Sam. He just lost his family in a tragic accident so we're looking to get him into a family as soon as possible." She passed Sam over to Jen, knowing that once the woman held him she wouldn't be able to turn Meg away, not that she was going to anyway. That wasn't part of the plan. "It's very tough with children his age because of how tedious the adoption process can be, and he doesn't need to go through any more than when he has." Jen cooed and pulled Sam's blanket down a little bit more to get a better look at his face. He yawned wide and reached out, grabbing at her finger curiously. Her eyes teared up, leaving her husband only half listening to what Meg was saying. "But if you both agree to take him, I can handle everything else on my end."

"Adam?" Jen asked, a quiver in her voice as she looked up. He smiled at her and rubbed her leg, squeezing lightly before he turned to look to Meg. "Of course we'll take him. What do we have to do?" Neither one of them noticed her grin widen as she leaned back and crossed her legs.

"Nothing at all. This will all be done under the table, so to speak. Sam will never have to be put through the process so for all anyone will know he'll be your blood child. And you won't have to wait anymore. If you're sure you want to take him, then I'll leave him here with you now." She left the idea hanging in the air, and the couple quickly reassured her that they would take Sam. Jen had begun to rock him, humming under her breath as she played with her son.

"We have a son, Adam," she said with a bright smile, tears welling in her eyes and completely forgetting for a moment that Meg was there. Meg licked her lips and watched them both. She could see how everything was going to play out. She imagined what Sam would look like when he grew up, how he would react when he finally fulfilled his destiny. She couldn't wait until it was time for her chance to take Sam with her and show him everything. But for now she had to wait. Meg could be patient when she wanted to be, and this end game was worth it.

"I'll leave you to it then," she said as she rose, extending her hand to Adam as he walked her to the door.

"Thank you so much," he said as he gripped her hand tightly. "We honestly can't thank you enough."

"Oh there's no need to thank me," she returned, eyes falling on the baby in Jen's lap. "I only want the best for Sam, after all."

The house was in chaos for the rest of the week as Jen and Adam rushed around trying to get everything they needed for Sam. They bought the best of everything and if that was something they couldn't really afford well, it was worth it because they finally had a child to call their own and they wanted to give him the best life he could dream of having. He was everything they had hoped for and more.

They didn't particularly mind that when they got him off formula and onto baby food he preferred smearing it over his face and mushing it between his fingers to eating it. He seemed happier when he was a mess. The boy hated getting baths and wouldn't stop fussing and crying until he was plopped down in his swing to gum one of his stuffed animals to death. Sam had a lot of attitude for a baby and his parents couldn't help but find it endearing that he would actually get pouty and mad at them for daring to clean him.

Sam was a very active baby. If they thought it was hard to keep up with him crawling, it was nothing compared to when he got his feet under him and could walk more than a few steps without falling down. And he got into _everything_. But once he discovered the wonder of banging on pots, they traded in exhaustion for headaches. Until Adam came home with a toy drum set. It wasn't quite right but once Sam figured out he wasn't going to get anymore pots he made due.

And a year later, Sam said he first word. He would repeat "da" over and over, each time earning him a proud smile from his parents. Soon he learned "ma" and Jen cried the first time he said it to her. Before long the rest of his baby noises became words then became sentences and the house was never quiet. Jen had decided to work from home for the first few years of his childhood and Sam would always follow her around, babbling excitedly about this or that. When Adam got home Sam would greet him by lifting his arms and opening and closing his hands a few times. Sometimes he would just get picked up but whenever Adam came home with good news he would always spin Sam around a few times before settling him in his arms. Like the day he had gotten a raise and wanted to go out and celebrate with dinner and Sam only fussed a little at being put to bed early.

When he lost his first tooth at the age of 5, Sam tried to stay up to see the Tooth Fairy. But, like all children, couldn't quite manage and by the time Jen came in to exchange it for a quarter even the lifting of his pillow didn't cause him to stir. She kept the tooth in a small marked envelope which she placed in a box that held everything that Sam had ever made or her and Adam (excluding the favorites which were kept up on the fridge, or at Adam's desk). The next morning Sam came down with his quarter, happy to have given her his tooth and only a little disappointed that he didn't see her. He had plenty more chances after all.

They loved Sam with all their hearts and were grateful to Meg every day for bringing him to them. At least they were until she came back.

It was just a few weeks after Sam's 6th birthday. It was almost 9:00pm so he was fast asleep, curled up around the new moose stuffed animal he got to replace his old one (which sat up on Sam's bookshelf next to his favorite books). Jen and Adam were curled up on the couch watching one of those Law and Order shows when someone knocked on the door. Adam frowned slightly considering how late it was, but his expression softened once he saw it was Meg. "Meg, what brings you here? Come on in." He stepped back and looked at his wife over Meg's shoulder curiously. "Is something wrong?" He asked nervously, trying to keep his voice even.

"Nothing at all," she replied, sweet smile not reaching her eyes. "I'm just here for Sam."

"Don't you think it's a little late to talk to him, he's already in bed after all. Maybe you can come back in the morning?"

"No worries, Jen. It'll only take a minute and he'll fall back to sleep just fine once we get him to his new house."

Jen and Adam wore matching expressions of shock as they stared. "N-new house? What do you mean? Why would he be going anywhere else?" They asked together. They didn't want to lose their son and couldn't think of any reason why Meg would have come back to take him away. It had been 6 years; had someone found out that they didn't go through the normal process to get Sam?

"You act so surprised," Meg said, echoing their expressions for a moment. "Did you really think that we would let you keep someone as important as him forever? It was only temporary because let's be honest, there's no way I'm going to change all those diapers. It was much easier this way."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'd like for you to leave now." Adam replied with some steel returning to his voice. "He's our son, you can't take him away. We'll call the police, this isn't right."

"I'd read the fine print next time, sweetheart," Meg's voice dripped with venom as he made a move toward his cell phone which rested on the end table but found that he couldn't move. "I wouldn't bother with that," Meg's grin sent a chill down the couple's spines. "There's nothing anyone can do for you now." She shoved them back, knocking over furniture as they sprawled. She put a finger to her lips as she bent forward slightly. "Quiet now, you wouldn't want to wake Sam now would you?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and snuffled a little as he woke to a hand brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Morning Mommy," he said through his yawn and he sat up rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning, Sam."

The boy blinked a few times. That wasn't his Mom's voice. The sleep cleared from his eyes and he was left looking at a stranger. "Who are you?" He asked quietly, tucking his knees up as he hugged his moose. "Where's my Mommy."

"She's not here sweetie." Meg reached forward to brush his hair away from his eyes but Sam leaned back to try and avoid her. "I'm going to be taking care of you now."

Sam's brow winkled as he frowned. "No, that's okay...I like when Mommy takes care of me. I want to go back home now." He didn't recognize the room he was in and he started to feel panic swell in his chest. He tried to scoot off the bed and around this strange woman. He didn't like her. He just wanted to go home.

"Sorry, Sammy, you can't go anywhere. You're going to stay here now, with us."

"Don't call me Sammy. M'not a baby." He said pushing at her arm that she had spread over his chest to get him to stop moving.

"Well unless you sit down and cooperate I'm going to have to treat you like one." She said in a tone so suddenly harsh it startled him and he stopped squirming for a moment to stare at her. "Much better." She sighed sadly returning to the visage she had before. "I guess you don't remember what happened. Meg shifted to sit next to him on the bed. Sam didn't reply to her, just stared up and waited for her to continue. "There was an accident. A fire." Sam blinked. He didn't remember anything...a flash of orange and red skirted behind his eyelids accompanied by the pops and crackles of burning furniture. He blinked back tears.

"But...Mommy...and Daddy?" Meg ran her fingers through his hair again; something that she would end up doing so often very soon he won't even feel it.

"They're gone, Sam. We'll take care of you now." He started crying in earnest, and Meg looked down at him as he curled up on the bed. He was theirs now and she could almost see exactly how this would all end. Could see Lucifer being released to live in this vessel as if it was happening in front of her right now. She left Sam and walked out to meet Azazel in the hallway. "It worked. He believed the memories."

"Of course he does. They were his nightmares when he was young, I just brought them back to the surface." Azazel grinned. "You know what to do." Meg nodded and turned down the hallway as Azazel disappeared.

"Mr. and Mrs. Harvey? Are you home?" The officer knocked on the door again, loudly. "This is the police, please open up." It had been two days since anyone had heard from the couple and when Sam hadn't shown up for school nor Adam for work the police were finally called. He waited another moment before trying the handle. When the door slid open, he passed a glance back to his partner and took a step inside. "We're coming in." He announced needlessly, eyes roaming the room. His partner wasn't expecting him to stop so suddenly so he almost bumped into his back but instead took a step around to stand at his side, gun raising slightly at the reaction.

"Dan what…oh shit." Both officers drew their weapons fully and stepped deeper into the house. Dan stopped to check the bodies but he knew there was no chance they were still alive. Both their throats had been slashed and their skin was pale and cold. He shook his head and called for backup on the radio as they moved through the house.

It had been reported as a robbery. The place was turned inside out and it was clear that several things had been stolen. But that had only been a passing mention in the article that ran in the paper. Everyone's attention had been focused on trying to find their boy who had gone missing. Fliers were put up by friends, an Amber Alert was issued and police in neighboring counties were alerted directly but there was little hope. He had already been missing for two days so by now he could be anywhere.

Three months later it was a slow news day so the double homicide and kidnapping were once again in the paper. "Police still looking for information on the deaths of Adam and Jen Harvey" the article read. Most who saw shook their heads sadly, bemoaning the presence of violent crime. They would sigh at the sight of Sam's face smiling up at them from the photo above the phone numbers for the Amarillo police and the nationwide kidnapping hotline before moving on about their day. But there was one man whose blood ran cold at the sight of that smiling face. His hands shook as he stared down at it, vision narrowing to see only that small photograph. He saw not just the boy, but also his wife's eyes. Her smile. His nose. The man's mind was blank for a few agonizing seconds before the sounds of the diner rushed back at him and one name filled his mind. Sam.

John threw a few dollars down onto the table and raced out to his car. "Bobby!" he shouted into the phone, startling the girl who was walking past him towards the doors. "Bobby you need to get down here now. I've got a lead on Sam. I'm going in to speak to the police, call me when you get here." He hung up without even knowing if Bobby had responded and took off towards the station, the werewolf case that Bobby was supposed to meet him here to investigate disappeared from his mind completely. 6 years of nothing. He couldn't waste any more time. John had to force himself to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before entering the station. He was just passing through the area, had helped out with kidnapping cases before, and just wanted to see if he could offer any help. He had to do it right. It wouldn't help Sam if he rushed into this and missed anything that could locate him. He repeated it to himself again as he held his breath. And as much as he tried to tell himself to calm down, his hands still shook as they opened the station door.

The Sheriff gave him the typical information. They didn't have much but he showed John the files. He flipped through them, chest tightening when he looked at Sam's picture again. This was the full version of the one that they posted in the paper. He was sitting at a picnic table surrounded by other children his age. There was a stack of presents in front of him and some of the other children were still eating their slices of cake, yellow with chocolate frosting which was Sam's favorite, not that John had the chance to find that out.

"That was taken a few weeks before the kidnapping. Kid just turned 6 years old." The officer shook his head sadly. "It's a damn shame. We checked out their friends but couldn't find anyone who held a grudge big enough to warrant something like this." John flipped the page to look at the people who had been close to the family and had been brought in for questioning. "I don't know if you're going to find anything, but you give us a call the moment you do alright?" John nodded as he shook his hand and returned to the Impala.

He had a message from Bobby. "I called Jody, she said that she's okay keeping an eye on Dean for a few more days. I'm heading down your way now, be there in a few hours." John didn't return the call, he just started down the list. Adam's boss and coworkers had been no help nor had anyone at the school. When he pulled into the cul-de-sac where they had lived John felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He hadn't realized just how much he had been dreading seeing the home where his son had been raised until he was staring it down. He wanted to go inside, wanted to find anything that would tell him who was there but instead he stopped two houses down and spoke to their neighbor.

"Can you think of anything at all that might help me find him?" John asked as he sat down, staring intently at the woman. "Something that you might have remembered between then and now?" Claire shook her head sadly.

"I can't say I have. They were very private people, there weren't that many people that they saw on a regular basis. They kept to themselves which just makes something like this harder to believe."

"Do you think it might have something to do with their son? In the times that you were with them, did they ever mention anything about the birth parents perhaps?" John waited for a reaction. Anything to prove to him that he wasn't just imagining the similarities he saw within that boy (God help him if he had). He shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. He should have found everything out first. He berated himself for a moment before realizing that Claire was staring right back at him.

"How did you know he was adopted?" His heart stopped. "I think most people actually forgot that Sam wasn't theirs, if they even made that connection in the first place. Most people don't go from nothing to having a 6 month old overnight." She continued with a sad chuckle. "They loved him so much..." 6 months old. He was adopted at 6 months old. It had to be him. There was no way it wasn't. "But to answer your question, no, I didn't know anything about the biological parents. Honestly I don't think they did either but I never outright asked so," she shrugged and looked to John, wondering if she had answered his questions.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answers it quickly, telling Bobby to wait before holding the phone against his shoulder. He shakes Claire's hand and thanks her for her time; offering one of his business cards he asks her to please call him should anything else come up. She nods and he's out the door. "Bobby, where are you?"

"Just got into town."

"Meet me at the end of Emory Court. It's the house, Bobby, I'm looking right at it. Get here fast, I'll be waiting outside." John kept his car parked outside Claire's but couldn't take his eyes off the house. He leaned against the hood, arms crossed over his chest, until his leg started bouncing and he couldn't get it to stop. So he began pacing back and forth. He ran his fingers through his hair hard but didn't notice Claire stopping to look at him through her window. John couldn't take his eyes off the house. It looked so normal. Just like every other house here. But, fuck, it was the house Sam grew up in. That thought made it somehow look evil to him.

He had no clue who these people were or how they ended up with his son but he hated them. They had seen his first steps, heard his first words. The fact that they had been murdered didn't register to him, or if it did it didn't matter, because he still hated them. He started toward the house again, making it a dozen steps before turning around with a frustrated growl. He slapped his hands down on the hood of the Impala when Bobby, mercifully, pulled onto the street.

John didn't spare him another glance, he just walked down to their driveway to meet him. "It's gotta be him Bobby. The ages are right, the boy was adopted and look," he took the newspaper out of his pocket and shoved it into Bobby's hands. He had only seen a single picture of Mary, one that John kept in his wallet. The man had been sitting at the kitchen table late that night, staying there until well after Bobby had gone to bed. He hadn't moved by the next morning. The only difference was that the bottle of whiskey was half empty and his head was pillowed on his arms. John's open wallet lay next to him, like he had fallen asleep holding it. Bobby wasn't really a curious man by nature, he just happened to look at the photograph when he capped the bottle to put it away. He didn't linger, but as often as he heard about her, the image connected automatically and stuck with him. He could see the similarities to John easier, but if he looked close he could see Mary too.

They checked their weapons and walked up to the door, John picking the lock easily. He took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a few seconds before swinging the door open. They both peered inside but couldn't initially see anything that posed a threat. The boards creaked as they stepped inside but aside from their steps it was eerily silent, even their breathing seemed loud. The house had been somewhat picked up after the occupants died, but it was still a mess which made the calm seem more disturbing. John glanced over at Bobby but he didn't look as high-strung as John felt. Gritting his teeth he took another deep breath to try and steady himself as he continued.

They explored the first floor and John tried not to let the fact that they hadn't found any sign of anything bother him. When they went upstairs, the first door on the left was Sam's room and John clenched his jaw as he entered. This was where his son had been raised, where he lived these past years and John had not been a part of it. A fresh surge of anger and hatred coursed through him and almost as if he had been called by John's anger Azazel appeared next to the bed.

"Johnny boy, about time you showed up." He grinned and tipped his head to Bobby as both hunters aimed their shotguns at his chest.

"You son of a bitch!" John growled stepping forward. "Where is my son? What have you done with him?"

"Oh John," Azazel placed his hand on his chest, looking hurt. "You're not even going to ask how I am? It's been so long since we've had a chance to chat."

"Where is he?!" Azazel just laughed, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked John over lazily, not even fazed by the weapons pointed at him.

"Your son is safe. You don't need to worry about him. He's far too important for us to let anything happen to him."

"Important?" Bobby questioned, eying the demon suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean? What could a demon possibly want with a kid?"

"Don't you think telling you would ruin all the fun? Besides, you're both hunters. I'm sure you'll be able to piece it together somehow." The grin still hadn't left his face as his eyes flashed and several black clouds flew by the house. "Well, at least you will if you make it out of here."

John snarled and closed the distance between them, face red as he pressed the barrel of his shotgun against his chest. "Tell me where my son is now or I will tear you apart."

"Which son is that? Sam or Dean? How is big brother doing anyway? Has he killed anything yet? Tell me, Johnny, does he enjoy it as much as you do?" Screaming, John pulled the trigger but Azazel had disappeared. The spray of the buckshot tore a hole in the closet door. He had disappeared again and John couldn't follow. He let loose a string of curses as he punched the wall, knuckles flaring in pain but John barely felt it. Bobby shouted his name as he shot a few rounds down the stairs.  
"Demons, John, we gotta get out of here!" There was a loud crash from further down the hall as one of the windows was blown in. Bobby only managed to turn around halfway before the black cloud rushed down the hallway and knocked him down the stairs. It was enough to pull John back to the situation at hand and he ran out of the room, quickly firing at the demons that rushed Bobby. He began screaming the exorcism as he continued to fire.

Bobby lay at the bottom of the stairs, teeth clenched against the pain of his leg. He grabbed it with both hands just below the knee as he rocked back, biting back curses. It took John a second to register the bit of bone that protruded from his shin. There was no way either one of them could set that and have it heal properly, so he had to get out of here and get Bobby to a hospital soon. A demon came at them from the kitchen, flinging a knife at John and it was enough to distract him. As he ducked down to avoid it, he stopped chanting the exorcism. The rest of the group rushed forward but Bobby picked it up, sweat beading on his brow as he yelled.

They fled the house, still in their meatsuits, and John struggled to get Bobby up. "John...what the hell...was that demon talking about?" Bobby pants out as they make their way to the door. John shakes his head and is about to speak up when they hear glass shatter outside. Finally arriving at the half open front door, they see the wreck that is Bobby's truck. The windshield was broken, the tires slashed and the hood torn open with pieces of the engine missing.

"You're not going anywhere, Winchester." The dark haired demon nearest them sneered. Distracted, John didn't notice the woman standing off to the side of the door until she grabbed him and yanked him forward. With the loss of his support, Bobby dropped to the ground with another pained shout; tears welling up in his eyes as his leg was jolted. John struggled to get out of the demon's grasp as Bobby reached for the dropped shotgun. The dark haired demon came up and kicked it away. Thinking that Bobby wouldn't be able to defend himself due to the pain, he squatted down and fisted the front of his shirt to pull Bobby's face up closer to his. "Any last words?"

"Yeah..." Bobby grunted as he shifted, reaching back into his pocket. "I ain't gettin' killed by a worthless shit like you." The splash of holy water in the demon's face sent him reeling back, reaching for his face as the water burned him. Bobby rolled over and pulled his body forward to grab his shotgun and shot him square in the chest before searching for John.

He shouted his name as he reloaded with shaking fingers. The adrenaline had been keeping him going, but it was starting to wear down fast. This had to end soon or they wouldn't be making it out of here. Sirens wailed in the distance but Bobby couldn't tell if they were getting closer or farther away. John had been thrown back against the truck and was actually holding his own fairly well against the woman, but the third demon moved up behind John too quickly. Bobby's shot went wide so the demon was able to throw his arm around John's neck and pull him back against him as he plunged a knife deep into his back. He hissed something in his ear and John struggled wildly, acting like he had forgotten his wound. The demon only laughed and plunged the knife between his ribs.

Bobby shot again and hit his shoulder before someone off to his left started shouting. It sounded far away and when he spared a glance, for a crazy moment he thought it was Jody standing at the end of the driveway pointing her handgun at the demons. He blinked and the image of Jody was replaced with the officer who actually stood there. He struggled to try and get up, shouting at her to get back but she didn't listen. The demons fled their meatsuits with a scream and flew at the police cars coming down the street. The black clouds barreled through them, actually flipping one over, before disappearing into the sky.

The officer rushed to his side as her partner saw to John. "Easy, easy. Don't move." She placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him still as she looked down his leg. "An ambulance is on the way." She looked around at the bodies that lay unconscious near the ruined truck. "What the hell was that?" She muttered to herself under her breath, not really expecting an answer that would make any sense at the moment. She pushed on Bobby's shoulder again to remind him to stay still as she called the station on her radio.

Bobby grabbed his head as he looked over to John, unable to help the swell of panic at the sight of his unmoving body. The woman's partner was kneeling over him, trying to keep pressure on his wounds as he shouted back to the other officers. What seemed like hours passed before the ambulances finally arrived to take them to the hospital. While they were being moved onto the gurneys Bobby yelled out a "Christo" which earned him nothing more than a few confused glances before the EMTs returned to their work. Satisfied for the moment that no one there was possessed he settled back against the bed.

Bobby hated getting injured on hunts. Not because of the pain, but because when he had serious injuries like this he had to deal with doctors and hospitals and that was not something that he enjoyed. The EMTs seemed to be used to this kind of attitude though, because they ignored most of his protests as they checked him over. Pretty soon the morphine shot they gave him started to take effect and some of his irritation disappeared with the pain. It came right back to the forefront, though, when his bone was suddenly shoved back into his leg. He screamed and cursed at every one of them as they tried to calm him with their bullshit. Thankfully for them, they arrived at the hospital shortly after and the nurses came out to take him inside. He craned his neck but couldn't see John as they had brought Bobby in first.

His mind was a confusing swirl as he tried to concentrate on what the yellow-eyed demon had said and everything that happened to distract him from his treatment. It still didn't make sense and even though he wasn't going to get anywhere in this state, he couldn't stop trying to come up with names of people who could help them piece together just what it was the demons wanted from Sam. The last thing he remembered seeing was the ceiling of the operating room where they would finish treating his leg. He was still asleep after they put him in his room, fingers scratching ineffectively against the cast as he adjusted in his sleep.


End file.
